


Marked

by justdk



Series: Andreil Week 2018 [5]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, POV Neil Josten, Scars, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, pre-Andreil - Freeform, reference to drake/thanksgiving and evermore and easthaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-06-07 09:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15216218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Neil Josten does not believe in soulmatesChapter 1: Neil POV, Chapter 2: Andrew POV





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Andreil Week 2018, Day 5: Soulmates
> 
> Based on this soulmate idea that you’re born with a soulmate mark and when your soulmate touches you the mark turns colors *fancy* I changed it a bit so that only handprints count. Andrew first touches Neil early on in canon but I can’t find when Neil first touches Andrew so for this AU I’m going to say it’s when he takes Andrew’s hand and pulls it under his shirt in The Raven King

The first thing Nicky did when he met Neil was ask, “So, do you know who your soulmate is already?”

Neil had barely gotten out of the car. Names had been exchanged and now this guy was wanting to if he had a soulmate or not?

He shot an uneasy look at his new teammates: dangerous and forbidding Kevin Day and the heathen twins. They all looked interested in his answer, which made Neil want to turn around and hitchhike back to the highway and get the hell away from Palmetto State. He had come here to play Exy, not get caught up in the same old stupid discussion.

“I don’t believe in soulmates,” Neil said. He gripped the strap of his duffle bag, hoping that they could just move on and go to the Court already.

“WHAT?!” Nicky’s voice went up an octave as he yelled the word. Kevin winced and one of the twins, maybe Andrew, laughed. The other twin didn’t seem to care and Neil felt immediately closer to him because of it.

“How can you not?” Nicky demanded. “It’s been proven time and again. _Everyone_ has a soulmate.” He twisted his arm around so Neil could see his elbow, the patch of skin swirling with rainbow colors from where someone had held it. “My soulmate’s name is Erik,” Nicky said proudly. “He lives in Germany and as soon as I graduate we’re going to get married and live happily ever after.”

Neil did his best not to roll his eyes. “I’m so happy for you,” he said drily.

“Thanks,” Nicky preened.

Neil should let it go but he was riled up by Nicky’s bragging and by the uncomfortable look on Kevin’s face.

“I just think it’s twisted,” he said. “I’m happy it worked out for you but that’s not always the case, right? Even if you have a soulmate there’s no guarantee that you will meet them. They could die before you get a chance to meet, they could fall in love with someone else. You could meet and end up unhappy anyways. Just because two people are born with a weird mystical connection it doesn’t mean they have to, or should, end up together. But that’s all anyone cares about: are you soulmates or not? And if you aren’t it’s like your relationship isn’t legitimate.” Nicky’s expression had turned sour and Kevin looked pained. Neil realized he had gone too far. _Damn it_. There went his plan to blend in and not cause waves. Five minutes on the ground and they all hated him.

“That’s really interesting, Neil,” one of the twins said. He was smiling but it was more threat than amusement. “It sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

He moved in closer, crowding Neil against the side of the car. Neil pulled back, shying away from him. Neil had never been keen on being touched but his aversion had worsened as he got older. Everywhere he went he was asked about his soulmate and people wanted to peek beneath his clothes and find the mark that – if he was ever touched by his supposed soulmate – would turn colors. Neil had enough marks to hide from the world and resented everyone’s insistence that he had a mark, meaning he had a soulmate, and on and on and on.

The twin reached for Neil and Neil clambered back onto the hood of the car. Viciously, he hoped that he scratched the paint.

“Hey!” the other twin yelled. “Get off our fucking car!”

Things might have escalated from there but Wymack came storming out of the apartment building, shouting about how he had better not get another noise complaint because they couldn’t behave.

Neil slid off the other side of the car and kept well away from the group as they went up to check out his new living space. His skin crawled once they were all confined within Wymack’s apartment. At any moment one of them could touch him. Neil regretted coming here. He regretted everything but Exy.

He survived the tour of the apartment but he wasn’t prepared for the elevator ride down. Immediately Andrew, the twin who had been so hostile earlier, got in Neil’s space, backing him up until Neil was pressed to the elevator doors. He knew what was going to happen and there was no way to stop it, not unless he hit Andrew first but he couldn’t do that. He was as paranoid about touching people as he was about being touched.

 _Please don’t please don’t please don’t_ he thought. Panic bred from years spent living in his father’s house surged, making him taste bile on the back of his throat.

He watched Andrew move in slow motion.

And then it was done. Andrew was touching him, his palm splayed on Neil’s chest. Neil couldn’t remember what Andrew had been saying, what this move was supposed to communicate. He was sick with anxiety, itching to see if the mark beneath his shirt had changed. The doors opened and Andrew pushed him out of the elevator and hip checked him, their bodies brushing against each other. It took all of Neil’s willpower not to crumple to the ground.

Once he regained his balance he took a steadying breath. He told himself it didn’t matter. Even if the mark had changed. He didn’t have a soulmate. It was all pointless. He’d be dead sooner rather than later and none of this mattered.

At the Court Kevin gave Neil gear to change into and directed him to the bathroom stalls. Neil leaned against the plastic partition and grabbed the hem of his shirt. He already knew but seeing was believing.

He pulled the fabric up. The black palm print that had marked his chest his entire life was now infused with color. Soft orange and white swirled, reminding Neil of creamsicle ice cream. He touched the skin but it didn’t feel any different. _He_ didn’t feel different. Neil held his own palm over the mark and thought with all his might _I don’t have a soulmate I don’t have a soulmate_. The colors remained.

—–

Neil decided that the mark changed nothing between him and Andrew. Andrew would never find out about it and Neil would be careful to never lay hands on Andrew.

In the early days this was not an issue. Their relationship went from bad to worse; Neil’s distrust of Andrew was justified at Eden’s Twilight. The entire night had been a clusterfuck and the next day was grim getting back to Wymack’s. Neil never wanted to be in the same room as Andrew Minyard ever again but of course he didn’t get what he wanted. Wymack called Andrew over and forced them to talk. It was a tense exchange but they came out the other side with an understanding: Neil would stay and Andrew would keep him safe, for as long as Neil managed to keep Kevin interested in him.

Neil stayed even though the odds were stacked against him. He was staying for Kevin, to give him the chance Neil would never get. Andrew was a thorn in his side but Neil could deal with it.

—–

Weeks then months passed and it had been ages since anyone had asked Neil if he had a soulmate mark. Nicky had joked on more than one occasion that Andrew didn’t have one because Andrew was soulless. Neil knew he was wrong about that, and he didn’t need the pastel print on his chest to prove it.

At some point Neil began to wonder if Andrew had a mark and where it would be located. The two of them had become close but Neil was careful. He wouldn’t touch Andrew. Months ago he had kept his distance because he hated Andrew and he was sure the feeling was mutual. But now, even though Andrew still professed to hate him, Neil knew better.

Andrew could never know. The world had hurt him enough; he didn’t need to find out that his soulmate was a runaway destined to die bloody before the year’s end. Nothing good would come of it. Nothing.

—-

Everything was ruined.

Neil couldn’t shut his eyes without replaying those awful moments before Aaron had pushed past him and killed Drake. He remembered it all with a terrible clarity that made him sick inside and furious.

They were taking Andrew away. There was so much that Neil needed to say but he had no privacy to do it. He took Andrew’s wrist and pulled his hand underneath his shirt, pressing Andrew’s palm to the rigid scars of his abdomen. He was giving Andrew the truth of himself… and of them. He wondered what color his mark would be on Andrew’s skin. He wondered if Andrew would ever forgive him.

—–

Neil wasn’t sure how to face Andrew after Evermore and Easthaven. All he could do was get in the car with the others and pretend that he was simply there as one of Andrew’s crew. The marks didn’t mean anything. Andrew would probably tell him that. It was fate’s little joke tying them together. Just because you were soulmates didn’t mean you would… that you had to…

Neil leaned his forehead against the window and slept.

Andrew wasn’t smiling when he joined them. He didn’t ask Neil anything. Not about his hair or his eyes, the bandage on his face or the bruises on his skin. He didn’t ask about the mark. Neil tamped down on his disappointment. The parking lot was no place for that conversation anyway.

They didn’t talk about it until later when Neil returned Andrew’s armbands. He watched Andrew push up the sleeves of his hoodie revealing scars and there – wrapped around his right wrist – the deep blue mark left by Neil’s hand. Neil only had a moment to admire it before Andrew yanked the armband over it, hiding it from view.

“Your turn,” Andrew said. “Or should I guess?”

He approached Neil and tugged at his shirt collar. He knew. Of course he did. Andrew’s perfect memory would have all their interactions stored and he’d had weeks in Easthaven to puzzle it out.

“The bandages,” Neil said, waving his hand over his chest, “are covering it up.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. Neil confessed everything: Riko’s bargain, his time at Evermore, the brutal transformation of his features.

Neil lightly touched his fingertips to his chest, his voice thin. “He tried to cut it away…” The pain had been excruciating but Riko’s bottomless rage had been something else entirely. Neil hadn’t broken under his assault, he hadn’t told who had left the mark on him. Andrew put a hand to his own chest as if feeling the echoes of the trauma. “It’s still there,” Neil reassured him, “if you want to see?”

Andrew looked around the stairwell and then led Neil to the top, to a hidden alcove by the door that opened onto the roof. He helped Neil remove his bulky hoodie and the large T-shirt underneath before carefully unwinding the yards of soft white gauze. Finally Neil’s torso was revealed and Andrew stepped back, surveying the damage. There were wounds and bruises layered on top of scars, not an inch of him spared from the marks of violence.

Neil tugged at the remaining bandage, a gauze pad that was stained at the edges with blood. The soul mark was taking longer to heal since it didn’t get to breathe beneath all the wrappings. Neil winced as he slowly peeled back the bandage.

The orange and white handprint was slashed and weeping clear fluids, the edges deeply scored from the knives that had tried to carve it away. Neil was still surprised that he had survived it. Maybe he wouldn’t have if Jean hadn’t been there to intervene. Neil had been so gone with pain that he didn’t know what Jean had said to make Riko stop, plus he and Riko had been speaking Japanese and that wasn’t a language Neil had learned. Yet.

“I would say it’s not as bad as it looks,” Neil said with a wry smile, “but then I’d be lying.”

Andrew had been staring at Neil’s chest, his arms crossed in front of him, his expression hard and closed-off.

“Oh?” Andrew’s voice was darkly amused. “You would never lie to me would you, _Neil Josten_?”

He stepped into Neil’s space and covered the sticky mark with his palm and fingers. It hurt. Neil didn’t know why that surprised him. Andrew’s shoulder bumped his, jarring injuries that had yet to heal.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Andrew said. His mouth was awfully close to Neil’s.

“I know,” Neil whispered.

Andrew pulled his hand away and wiped the fluids onto Neil’s thigh. He took the bandage from Neil and covered the mark and then they went through the redressing process. By the time they were finished Neil was aching and exhausted but he still followed Andrew onto the roof. They lit cigarettes and looked out over the Palmetto State campus.

Andrew’s silence was interminable and finally Neil had to say it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Neil said. He faced Andrew, turning away from the drop that could kill him if he slipped, if he was pushed. “I know you hate me. You don’t owe me anything.” Neil dug deep to find the resolve to keep going. “But I want you to know that I… _care_ about you.” Andrew was impossibly still. “And that’s all _me_. And you. It’s… it’s not the marks, okay? It’s real.” Neil tugged at his sleeves. “I can’t explain it but I know it’s real.”

Andrew tossed his cigarette over the ledge and Neil watched it fall. For a moment he felt lightheaded and he teetered, nearly tumbling over himself. Andrew grabbed a fistful of Neil’s hoodie and hauled him away from the edge.

“Would you stop trying to die all the time?” Andrew asked. He sounded exasperated.

“Maybe,” Neil said with a small smile, his heart thumping wildly, “if you start trying to live.”

Andrew huffed and tugged Neil closer. “Don’t try to bargain with me, liar,” Andrew said. “We both know you can’t be trusted.”

“Perhaps.” The wind gusted over the roof and Neil shivered. Andrew drew him closer still and pulled Neil’s hood over his auburn hair. Andrew’s mouth was awfully close.

Andrew caught him looking and his lips twitched into a small smile. “Let’s go in,” Andrew said. He pinched Neil’s sleeve between his fingers and tugged him towards the door.

Neil followed, pulled in by Andrew’s magnetism. Something new was starting; he could feel it humming in his chest. _It’s not the bond_ , he thought, _it’s us_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: references to Andrew's childhood abuse. TW: sexual assault -- memories of Drake (non-explicit but emotionally scarring)

Andrew studied his wrist as he stood in the shower, hot water cascading down his back, and the rest of the team shouting and laughing in the other stalls. He touched the blue mark that encircled his wrist, marveling at the brilliant shade that was like nothing he’d ever seen before. The color was stark on his pale skin and sometimes he thought it almost seemed to glow, the shades shifting like water in a pool, deepening almost to black and turning light and shimmering at other times. He assumed it had something to do with Neil’s moods but he never asked and he didn’t bother to research it. He knew that Nicky would be more than happy to spin theories – his cousin was obsessed with soulmate marks – but Nicky didn’t need to know that Andrew had a mark. He definitely did not need to know that, in the biggest cosmic joke of all time, Neil Josten was Andrew’s supposed soulmate.

Other than Neil, none of the Foxes – his family included – knew about his mark, and he planned to keep it that way. He and Neil had talked about it some in the days after his return to campus. Well, Neil had talked and he had listened while pretending not to.

Neil Josten was a convoluted puzzle of a boy and what little Andrew knew about him was just a smokescreen covering a past that had left him scarred from top to bottom. Now, thanks to his reckless meddling, Neil had even more scars. The deep cuts surrounding his soulmate mark had made Andrew cringe when he first saw them. He knew the pain of a knife. He knew how deep to cut to avoid real injury. The vicious slices on Neil’s chest should have required stitches and Andrew had been surprised that Wymack or Abby hadn’t insisted on it.

He was also surprised that seeing Neil’s Riko-inflicted wounds had made him _feel_. There was anger, which was easy to identify. Anger at Riko and the Ravens for hurting Neil. Anger at Neil for being an idiot and going back on his word. Anger at himself for letting this Exy junkie get under his skin. There was something else, too, something that had more to do with Neil’s shocking auburn hair and icy blue eyes and the lean cut of his body. It unsettled Andrew and kept him up late at night while he listened to Kevin’s soft snores and softer whimpers.

The mark had nothing to do with it. Neil, at least, was right about that. Fuck the marks. Andrew’s had brought him nothing but pain.

—–

Back in foster care the adults, when they touched him, yanked him around by his wrist, grumbling and cursing. If they bothered to comment on the mark it was to say nasty, mean things, things a child shouldn’t hear. The other kids leered and taunted him, daring each other to try and touch the mark. Andrew became very good at fighting them off. But he was small and sometimes the bigger kids joined in. More than once he had been held down while each child, cruelly, pinched his wrist and mocked him. As if they were any better. They were all unwanted, alone in the world. At least he had given up on the fantasy of a happy life and a family.

Then there were the really bad adults, the ones that should have been kept far away from children, far away from the weak. Andrew tried his best to keep what they said and did locked out of his conscious mind. It was never forgotten but it was contained. He could get through most days without thinking about it.

But now that damnable mark was a glorious shade of blue, its colors ebbing and flowing like the tides. It was distracting, both beautiful and terrible. He couldn’t stop staring it, this unasked for change to his body. Black to blue. Like a bruise.

—–

By the time Andrew moved in with Cass he had learned to keep the mark covered. Long sleeved shirts were best but he also had an old Green Day sweatband that he wore as backup. He had taken it from one of his more obnoxious foster brothers.

In the end it hadn’t mattered how much Andrew had learned on his way to the Spear household, how much he had fought back. He was a small kid at the mercy of a larger, stronger, manipulative predator. He didn’t stand a chance.

The mark was a trigger for Drake. He would grip Andrew’s wrist so hard that bruises formed all around the mark but the mark itself was unchanged, dead and black on his mottled skin. Despite his hatred of Andrew’s soulmate mark Drake always ripped off the sweatband, always touched it, like maybe this time he could provoke a change.

Which was absurd. Drake didn’t have a soulmate mark. Maybe he used to and it had been corrupted and stripped away, Andrew didn’t know. He did know that Drake was a soulless monster. He was only alive because Cass loved him. Cass with her denial and soft doe eyes that refused to see what was right under her nose, rotting in her house.

Andrew had a mark, which meant Andrew had a soulmate. Drake never let him forget it, never stopped punishing him for it. The mark made him worse, dialing up his cruelty to almost unsurvivable levels.

“I’m gonna fuck you up so bad,” Drake had sworn, “that even _if_ you meet your soulmate that fucking mark won’t change. It’ll be broken, see? Just like you, Andrew. Who would want to be your soulmate anyway? You’re just a piece of shit. You’re only good for a fuck and you’re not even good at that.”

And on and on and on.

Pain. That mark brought nothing but pain.

When Drake had seen him again, when he attacked him in Luther’s home, the first thing he did after he had Andrew pinned to the bed was go for the band on Andrew’s wrist. But it had been too difficult for him to get off and he had been too busy doing other things to Andrew to focus. His hand squeezed around Andrew’s wrist like a vice, grinding the bones together.

Andrew wondered, later, if Neil had sensed that something was wrong because of the marks. Did he feel Andrew’s pain? Did their mystical connection relay the danger Andrew was facing?

—–

Andrew touched the blue skin again, dimly aware that the water had turned cold and that the room had quieted. It was ironic that Drake’s attack was what had prompted Neil to break his no touching policy, which had ultimately revealed that they were “soulmates.” If there was a hell Andrew hoped Drake burned with that fact constantly tormenting him. Andrew hoped Drake would burn forever for what he did to those kids.

“Andrew?” Neil’s voice echoed in the empty room. “Did you drown?”

Andrew cut off the shower and shook himself. He was chilled straight through and shivering but his voice was steady when he replied, “Obviously. Toss me my towel.”

Neil pushed the towel over the top of the stall door. Andrew watched as Neil’s feet retreated but he didn’t hear the door open.

“You waiting for me, Josten?” Andrew asked. He scrubbed the towel over his skin, trying to chafe some warmth back into his limbs. “What are you, my stalker?”

“New soulmate rule,” Neil said, “we have to remain within an Exy field length of each other at all times.”

Andrew almost laughed. “I’m not going running with you in the morning so tough luck.”

He heard Neil’s amused huff and his retreating footsteps. The door creaked open and Andrew said, “Wait.”

The door closed but Neil didn’t move.

“I’m almost done,” Andrew said. “Talk to me.”

It was a weakness, needing Neil to distract him from his memories, to keep him in the present. But it was a weakness Andrew could live with.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door of the stall. Neil looked at him, taking in all of Andrew and lingering on the mark. Andrew stared back with interest. Neil didn’t look at him like some men did, with lust either brightening or clouding their eyes. Neil _assessed_. Andrew was being evaluated by some unknowable rubric but he didn’t mind.

Neil stepped closer, moving slowly and carefully. When he was just out of arm’s reach he stopped. His head was tilted to the side, his gaze fixed on Andrew’s wrist. He sucked in a breath as the color of the mark shifted dramatically, becoming a faint and startling shade of blue, almost white.

“I didn’t know they could do that,” Neil breathed, a bit of awe seeping into his tone.

“Yours doesn’t change color?” Andrew asked. He felt oddly pained by that.

Neil shrugged. “I don’t think so. But then again, I don’t stare at my chest all that often.”

Andrew took a step closer, his bare feet slapping against cold, wet tile. He felt exposed with his mark in full view, with only a towel covering him. He was exposed but not uncomfortable, not threatened. Not by Neil.

“Can I see it?” Andrew asked. His voice came out low, making the words sound more like a come on than a question.

He knew how much Neil valued his privacy, how he hid his body and his scars beneath layers and layers, never letting anyone get close enough to discover the hard to swallow truths about him. And yet he had taken Andrew’s hand and pressed it against his stomach, let him touch and feel the scars on his skin. He let Andrew get close.

Neil nodded once and gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his stomach and chest until it was bunched up under his chin.

“Truth for a truth,” Neil murmured. He didn’t look at his mark; he only looked at Andrew.

Andrew swallowed thickly and watched as the pastel orange handprint on Neil’s chest flamed into a bright, sunset orange. He wanted to hiss at Neil to pull his shirt down, to cover up the evidence of what he was feeling.

Instead he did the stupid thing. He moved closer, until they were toe to toe. He kept his eyes locked onto Neil’s blue ones and pressed his hand to the mark, covering it completely.

He immediately felt a charge pass through him, sending his already elevated pulse rocketing upwards. He didn’t ask _did you feel that?_ because the way Neil’s pupils had expanded said that yes, Neil had felt something.

“Can I…” Neil’s tone was unsteady and he took a quick breath to compose himself. “Can I touch your mark, too?”

“For science?” Andrew deadpanned, trying to cut the tension.

It must have worked a little because Neil’s shoulders relaxed and he grinned. “Yeah, for science. And hey,” his voice was softer, “this is new for me, too.”

He had no right to look like _that_ , vulnerable and curious and needy. Andrew wanted to pause the moment and study this stripped version of Neil Josten, to solve this endlessly frustrating and fascinating problem of a boy.

“Fine,” Andrew conceded. “Get on with it before Nicky busts in here and says something I’ll have to murder him for.”

Neil laughed quietly and Andrew moved his thumb just a bit, watching how the sliver of the mark shifted colors. The ache inside him expanded but it didn’t hurt.

Neil’s strong, slender hand curled around Andrew’s wrist. His grip was loose and gentle yet the touch still rocked Andrew to the core.

He wasn’t the only one. Neil’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. He looked at Andrew, his expression almost frantic.

“You feel that, too, right?” His voice was strained.

Andrew nodded. It felt like a current looping between the two points of contact. It wasn’t painful and it wasn’t sexual it just _was_.

An unbroken connection between the two of them, as twisted and lovely as an infinity symbol.

Neil broke the connection first, his hand falling away from Andrew’s wrist and hanging limply at his side. His skin had paled, the flush leached away. His reaction was the exact opposite of what it had been only moments before. He had gone from elation and awe to cold dread. Andrew looked down at his wrist, hating himself for the sick feeling that curled in his stomach when he saw the color – the deepest blue-black. He could feel the drum-like beat of Neil’s heart against his palm and he wondered what had just changed.

And then Andrew got it.

He curled his hand into a fist and knocked it once against the mark, feeling a tiny surge in his chest, before he stepped back.

Neil was trying to school his expression and failing. He was upset and it was making Andrew upset, which made him want to be mean.

“I get it,” Andrew said harshly, “you didn’t ask for this, you didn’t ask for _me_.” He pushed past Neil and headed for the door. “Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

Andrew was already planning ahead, even though he knew that it would be impossible to forget the warm electricity that had poured from Neil into him, but hoping that Roland’s skillful mouth would blot out the remembered sensation for a few minutes.

“You don’t get it!” Neil said, almost yelling at him. “It’s not you, Andrew, it’s –”

“It’s not you, it’s me?” Andrew scoffed, turning to face Neil. “We’re not in a romcom, Josten. We’re not breaking up right now.”

“It sure seems like it,” Neil muttered, his cheeks flushing.

“It’s not.”

Neil sighed and gestured at Andrew’s wrist. “Look, look at that color. A fucking stormy sea, that is.” He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “So what, our marks are also fucking mood rings now? Guess what, Andrew? Not all of my emotions are centered on  _you_. This,” he pointed back and forth between them, “isn’t just about you. I’ve got,” he floundered for a word before blurting out, “ _shit_ to deal with, okay?”

“I’m aware,” Andrew said dryly. Neil scowled.

“No, listen,” Neil said, “what I’m trying to say is that I might have realized some things just now that made me worry… about you.” His head was tilted down and he looked up at Andrew through his lashes. He worried his lower lip between his teeth and Andrew shouldn’t have found that hot, not at a time like this.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Andrew said sarcastically. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“Right, fine,” Neil huffed. He chewed aggressively on his lip.

Andrew knew Neil didn’t believe him. Hell, no one would. He had just gone through emotional whiplash and now Neil was trying to run a damage report and patch him up.

“I didn’t mean to freak out,” Neil continued, “This is… a lot to process. But it doesn’t change what I told you on the roof.”

Andrew gave him a sharp look. He knew exactly what Neil was talking about but he still said, “Remind me.”

Neil stared intently at Andrew and walked towards him. He pressed his own palm to his chest, over the mark. “These don’t matter. What matters are the promises we made and the truth we share. I gave my back to you and you said you would watch out for me.” Neil swallowed before continuing. “I care about you, Andrew, that will never change, no matter what color that mark becomes.”

If he had been wearing more than a towel and if they had been anywhere other than the showers, Andrew might have kissed him. He wanted to, badly. He wanted to kiss the earnest curve right off of Neil’s lips and tell him to shut up. He wanted to tell him that was how soulmates talked, not how _Neil Josten_ and _Andrew Minyard_ talked. He wanted to kiss Neil and see what color the mark became. He wanted to taste Neil and tell him that he had never cared about the mark, that he wanted them gone, that he wanted to believe every word that Neil said.

He could do none of that so he fell back on predictable patterns, reaching for Neil and gripping the back of his neck. He felt the tension ease out of Neil and it helped to relax him as well. His fingers dug in, just shy of bruising, his thumb brushing the soft skin behind Neil’s ear, making him shudder. Andrew couldn’t help but look at his wrist as the colors shifted wildly. He needed to get his armbands on, he needed to stop looking and wondering, to stop obsessing over every shift of Neil’s emotions.

He gave Neil a parting squeeze and reached for the door. “We good?” he asked Neil.

Neil offered a half-smile and nodded. “We’re good.”

—–

Roland was good but not good enough to get Neil Josten out of Andrew’s head. They shared a cigarette afterwards and Andrew wondered if it would ever dissipate, this connection he felt with Neil. Did it make his life better or worse? Had the curse of the mark changed? Or would it still bring him nothing but pain?

**Author's Note:**

> me: write a soulmate au! for fun! *a million years later* I’m dead inside. I could have added so much more but uhhh I’d still be writing. I also thought about maybe adding a followup with Andrew’s POV??
> 
> also… I don’t love the idea of being stuck with a soulmate and I don’t think Neil or Andrew would be either so I wanted to explore that. some of my thoughts on soulmates were influenced by a conversation between two lovers in the super depressing mini-series London Spy


End file.
